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Show 211 He is going to our floor lamp. It can be turned on with one switch to a large bulb or to another controlling three smaller bulbs. He chooses the three bulbs. Combined, they are only slightly less bright than the big bulb. "That's OK," I am conceding, because it is also not OK. "But how are you going to sleep with that on?" The lamp is right next to the head of our bed. "How are you going to?" he is responding, tilting his head in question. I have never before been able to sleep with excessive light. I shrug, as confused as he, and climb out of my wheelchair and into bed. It is an interesting question and as we settle beneath the blankets, this fear speaks to me in new and different voices. It is an impending doom. Broader than death, worse than torture, it is an eternal, impending doom and it contradicts every belief that I have ever earned by the sweat of my spiritual labors. Hy is now snoring by my side but I am riding the flood of everlasting grayness into the valley of nothingness. I do not sleep until exhaustion overtakes me. |